high times
by BlackNeko20
Summary: everyone's addicted to something. read as arthur's generation experiences different addictions, from alcoholism to video games. long work, expect semi-regular updates. t for drug references, adult content. feedback appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

high times

a/n: everyone's addicted to something. Elwood City is no exception. each chapter a different person, a different addiction. can they ever get clean?

rated t for the drug stuff, some language, possibly some sexual themes. might up it to m if i need to.

chapter one-Buster

"You got the stuff?"

Buster needed a fix. He was in a ton of pain and his doctor wasn't giving him any more pills. The healthcare system struck again. He was out on his ass and the only one who could help was his dealer, Johnson.

They met by accident. Buster was at an urgent care looking for pills. Dealer was there with his girl after a cooking accident. They got to talking in the waiting room. They exchanged numbers, then Buster had to decide about calling. He needed the pills. He had to have them to get through the day. But the doctors had failed him.

"You know I got it," he nodded. He passed off a baggy, "Here you go, fifty for those. Should last you two weeks if you're careful."

"I can't afford to be careful," Buster murmured, passing him two 20's and a 10. "Everything hurts."

"I get it, my man. But my supply? Limited. Laws exist in this country and they're hurting my business. That supply should last you two weeks because that's all I can get. But I talked to my other guy, Steve. He might have some next week if you need them. Here's his number," Johnson said. He passed Buster a business card. As Buster tucked it into his wallet, Johnson drove off.

Buster went to his apartment. Well, his mother paid for it. He did have a job before his wreck. A flat-bed tow truck hit him going 45 in a 25, rear ended him and jacked his back up. Physical therapy and a strict pain regimen followed. The meds were amazing, but he got used to them. As his prescription went down, his pain increased. "But you should be better now," his docs said. They put him down for more scans, which his old workplace paid for (though he hadn't been able to work in months). The scans showed nothing. No dislocation, no swelling.

They said officially it was all in his head. Buster was written off, sent away. So he tried contacting other doctors. That worked for a year, but now they were catching on. Well the laws were. His history was a red flag so they refused to see him.

He just wanted to stop the pain and nothing else was working.


	2. Chapter 2

chapter two-Francine

Her cup hid secrets. At work it matched the other girls. A swirling red F took over the side with random lines and dots covering the whole surface. It looked like Karen's, except hers had a green K and a last initial, L, because she got the cup after she married. Karen Lasinger didn't need her cup. All she drank was water, at least Francine hoped it was water.

Being a drinker made Francine more open to alcohol, more observant. She knew her boss had a nip around noon with his lunch. The guy in accounting? With his morning coffee. She was the only one going through a cup every few hours. Her cup hid it. Mints hid her breath. Being numb hid the whole thing.

Her divorce set her off. Everyone at the office knew it. Five years of marriage gone. She was still trying to get her name changed back. Francine Read just didn't have a good ring to it. She hoped the next bitch liked it. He seemed to like some on the side. He swore he didn't, but Francine didn't trust him anymore. She couldn't, not after seeing him with some other ho all the time.

The drinking was already there. She met Arthur at a college party and reconnected. They partied every weekend. They got jobs and drank most nights, usually just beer but mixed drinks too. Sometimes they'd get several bottles and just have a party with the two of them. It wasn't the same but they had fun.

Five years of that, gone, all because he couldn't keep his hands to himself. The straw that broke the camel's back was finding him in the women's bathroom at the bar. They'd gone together but met up with friends. Francine had to go so she went in with a friend. And there was Arthur, his stuff in some other girl's mouth, passed out against the wall.

He tried using the alcohol as an excuse. Whatever, kid. Francine didn't care. She moved out, got her own shitty rental house, then filed for divorce. On her own. She didn't have extra money for lawyers, and neither did he.

He kept fighting it though. He was doing everything he could to stop things. But Francine knew something: she never really loved him. She was just too drunk to see it. And now she needed her drinks in her fancy cup to get through the day, just like everyone else.

a-n: to chrys, not yet but i'm tempted. i'll keep you updated. if anyone else has a request or questions let me know. 10 chapters written so far, posting slowly.


	3. Chapter 3

chapter three-Muffy

Cleaning up was easy. Muffy sat on the edge of the tub and stripped. She was still buzzing as she let the cold water run over her. Then she used the shower head to get everywhere she needed. Water hit the floor but whatever, there was a maid for that. Muffy smiled as she turned off the water. She dried herself then walked naked into the bedroom. Another round lay untouched on the night stand. She popped the needle in then lay down to let the drugs take effect.

Working for Daddy had perks. Muffy had all the money she needed with plenty of time for other things. Today it was John. She met him at a coffee shop, he offered her a fun time. She took it, and now she had a hundred dollars to blow, probably on more rounds. He brought his own supply which was nice.

Word spread when you were as good as her though. Men loved her, namely because no one else would put out. Muffy didn't mind. Sex was fun, drugs were fun. She just liked having other people around usually when she did things.

Plus her father only wanted her help every now and then, but he'd still pay her way. She had moved to the guest house as a teen to hide her activities. Sometimes two different guys would visit, plus more on the weekends. Only Bailey knew. He left because of it, something Muffy still felt guilty for. But he couldn't see what was going on and not tell, so he had to leave. At least it was his decision.

Muffy was flying. She felt weightless as she lay on the bed. She'd painted a starry scene on her ceiling once. She was high and her fuck had the paint. They spent all night painting and going after each other, popping pills between rounds. She'd never felt more alive.

Looking up at those stars, she felt alive again. And she knew it was the drugs and the sex because so far, nothing else had worked.

a/n: putting up a preview list for the first 10 chapters of this. see my profile to know what's coming next.


	4. Chapter 4

chapter four-Jenna

She had to use four different gyms. Each one had a 1 class per day policy. Jenna liked taking multiple to keep her energy up. If she wasn't hyped up to go, she'd collapse. She had to take them, but it took four gyms, four separate memberships, not even counting the class fees.

At least she had a job in sales. Working out among the public every day was helpful for this. Go to yoga class at eight, meet Piper. Piper wants these products for her house, Jenna does the paperwork as they drink a smoothie at the gym's cafe. Jenna books it to her eleven o'clock zumba class. She meets more clients, makes the sale over lunch, goes to her afternoon class and does it all again.

Her numbers were great, and she'd never been more strong. Working out had its perks and Jenna could feel it. Ripped abs, triceps that made all the men jealous. She didn't have a date or anything, but if they conflicted with her workout schedule, they were out. She had to have her nightly run back at her first gym, the one closest to home. Two to three hours each night, she'd run her heart out. It was perfect.

She'd never felt more healthy. Not doing sports in college because of her grades was hard, but now she was doing well for herself. Never better. She was fit, alive, and making money. What more could a girl need?

It was after lunch now so she ran in the park. Even in the rain, she ran through. It helped her relax midday before her afternoon spinning class. She was the only one who did it every day, the only one who could. Even the teachers couldn't keep up with her.

That was why she spent her late nights working to become a physical trainer. The work was easier than she thought, and if she could teach her own classes, it would cut down on cost. Profits would rise and she could exercise and stay fit. It was the perfect combination. She just needed her certification, then she needed her own gym. She'd have to have her own company to do what she wanted. Everyone else had rules and she wasn't interested. It had to be her way and hers alone.


	5. Chapter 5

chapter five-Arthur

People at work didn't know he was a mess. Rather, they didn't care that he was a mess. Arthur had his own office. People barely looked in on him unless it was time to close up, and even then he'd get ignored. He'd woken up at two in the morning twice now, asleep at his desk, with no one around. At least his light was still on.

This was how it always was though. They did complex accounting. Well, it was complex to explain and do by hand, but the computer did everything else. All these stiff business majors had to do was input stuff, though they normally just checked data. Each person had several companies to do work for. Arthur had ten, not counting his mother's firm. She paid him to look it over once a month, though she mostly did the work herself.

It was money in the bank but it wasn't exciting. It was fun when his night was fun, when he'd been drinking with Francine and their friends. He needed the job as a mental break between rushes. It was almost like sleep. Hell, sometimes it was sleep.

But his divorce changed that. He had to sell the house. Francine demanded it. So now he had a small apartment in a shitty building. So he lived alone among tons of people, all of them loud. He had to drink alone too, namely because he couldn't go to sleep sober because of the neighbors.

Life was miserable. Francine called him up every few days bitching about something else that needed to be done. Most of the time he'd already done it. Other times he hadn't because she hadn't done the work. Only a few times he'd actually had to do something.

He tried to plead his case more during these calls. She swore he was a lying cheater. He had no clue what she was talking about. He'd never had any other girl like that, not that he knew of. He tended to blackout while Drunk-drunk, but he thought he passed out. According to her he didn't. It was frustrating. She wouldn't believe him, and neither would their friends. Apparently they saw it too. Saw what?

At work he kept this to himself. It was hard not to drink. He knew others did it and he didn't want to be like them. It was hard to stay drink-free for a while, but Arthur didn't mind. It was worth it to keep his job.


	6. Chapter 6

chapter six-Brain

He had to get this paper out. Working at Elwood City University was stressful. His department was new, plus his parent department was slacking. They needed more grants to keep things going. More grants meant doing more works to prove you needed said grants. Alan felt like he was the only one willing to do this work.

Right now it was a paper covering their recent work on antibiotic-resistant bacteria. A pair of grad students found a new strand. It was in the bathrooms in the science wing, where a lot of students used hand sanitizer and strong soap after experiments. The bacteria seemed to be mutated, so they wrote a paper on it. Alan offered to oversee it. Now he had to put the pieces together, format everything correctly, and send it out by noon.

There was a knock on his door. Alan ignored it. Students could go away, faculty could email him. This was simple and most people understood.

Not this person. Alan tried to continue his work, but suddenly his door was open. The dean stood there putting away her keys. She'd used her set to let herself in.

"Alan, we need to talk. Do you mind stopping for a minute?" she asked, arms crossed. Alan had no choice. He stopped and turned to face her. "There's a department meeting next week about new policies. I want you to be the first to know because you'll be the most effected by the change."

"What have they done now?" Alan asked with a smirk.

The dean did not return his smile, "Mandatory leave time. Too many students are complaining that their teachers are coming in sick and whatnot, which makes no sense seeing all the "CLASS 1101 HAS BEEN CANCELLED" signs all over the place, but it has happened enough for the president to take action. Every professor must take the equivalent to one week per semester. That's three weeks a year if you do summer courses, which you do. Alan, you never leave."

"But I've never gone to class sick," Alan argued.

"That's not my point. You have to take time away from these things. I know you're working very hard to get your department off the ground, and you're helping out the entire School of Biology here. But you have to take a step back. You're too young to waste away like this. Besides, you won't be able to keep it up. I'm not telling you that you can't. Please don't interpret this that way. All I'm saying is that I've seen this sort of thing happen before, and it never works out well."

"So I have to decide when to take my week? I can't just take it at the end like I do every fall term?" Alan asked.

"No, and Thanksgiving doesn't count either," the dean said. She sighed, "I don't like it either. I just wanted to tell you so you could plan it out. If you don't take the time, they could write you up. After so many write-ups, they have to fire you."

Alan sighed heavily, "Fine, I'll look at my schedule. Now I have to finish this."

"Forward the final draft to me for a look," she reminded. Alan nodded.

The dean left and he could work again. He trucked through and finished around ten. He sent off the paper to the proper people, then to the dean. He then fired off an email to the students, who thanked him for the work.

Alan sat back, reveling in the high of getting his work done. His smile quickly faded. He pulled out his calendar and started his search. What week could he afford to trash?

His smile went up again. None of them. He'd take the time off. He might even fly off somewhere. But he'd still be working whether they liked it or not.


	7. Chapter 7

chapter seven-Fern

One more paragraph, one more chapter. One more, one more, the story of Fern's life. She had to keep writing, keep up her quota. She had to get things done.

First it was coffee, then caffeine powder. The headaches were awful and her stomach did flips, so she had to find something else. Another journalism student suggested the uppers. They were for people who needed it for mental things, something to keep the mind running. Downers got them to sleep, uppers put them to work.

They told her to do both or only do the uppers once a day. Fern couldn't do that. One more paragraph, one more chapter. One more, one more, the story of Fern's life. Her career depended on it. Finally a book deal, now a series. One more, one more, she had to write one more.

Her fans were voracious. They wrote her constantly. They commented constantly. "What's next?" was their only question. One more, one more. "We need another book!" "More about Lana!" "More! More! More!"

It was driving her mad, she knew that. She used to sleep seven hours a night. Always seven, no more, no less. Then she got to college, had to stay up for papers, and things changed. She knew it was coming. The career she chose was high-energy at times. Some people could write like mad no problem. Fern needed time. Time cost time, so she cut her sleep. She moved where takeout was a thing to cut down on shopping, eating, ordering, anything she could for an extra minute to write.

Now she didn't sleep. Takeout fed her and a water cooler fueled her thirst. She had to work, so she just replaced her needs. Work meant money, work meant success.

She knew it was hurting her though. Her eyes were bloodshot. She lost all vision sometimes. Luckily she could touch-type and her mouse never left her document. She wrote blind a lot, just to get the words in. One more paragraph, one more chapter. One more, one more, the story of Fern's life.

She was starting to resent it, but the money was too good. The fame was too great. Movie studios were calling, then the talk show circuit would call. Fern was going to be famous.

One more pill, one more paragraph, one more chapter. One more, one more, the story of Fern's life.


	8. Chapter 8

chapter eight-Alex

WoW was his life. World of Warcraft, all day, every day. He'd been good at it from the start, a natural. He built a reputation for himself. He made himself important. Players respected him and looked up to him.

His roommate thought he was a slob. Karen liked gaming. That's how she met Alex, at a local tournament for gamers. Alex won the field and won her heart. She tried getting him to date. When that didn't work, she took his offer for a roommate. He had a rental house. His parents paid half and he was supposed to pay the other. He brought her on to pay that half. She was too in love to notice.

That had changed. Karen came home from work. She worked night shift at Walmart nearby. She was miserable, exhausted, and her eyes glazed over. All she wanted was to collapse.

But the house was disgusting. Alex left his room a few times a day. He had a collection jar for pee, a small fridge for drinks, and a shelf for snacks. The kitchen was a once a day trip. This particular day, he destroyed it.

Karen was furious. Mostly she was just fed up. Working retail was already soul-sucking. Coming home to squalor was almost worse, almost. Karen couldn't pick her job, but she could pick her home.

Her feelings for Alex ended when she started seeing this mess. She saw him for who he was, an addict. WoW, all day and night. He'd even pissed himself while he slept a few times. Sleep and bathroom breaks weren't on the agenda, only gaming. She hated it. Gaming was supposed to be a hobby, not an obsession.

She'd tried to get through to him. He ignored her. She tried to look past it. Rent was cheap here, better than her crumby apartment. Coming home to this? It was no longer worth it.

Karen loudly threw her shit into bags. Alex complained about the noise. Karen told him to fuck off. She finished packing and threw her shit in the car. Then she came back inside. Alex was in the zone. She could tell by the look in his eye. She didn't even exist.

She had to try though. "I'm leaving," she called to him. Loud and stern, she told him again. He ignored her.

Karen sighed, "Fine, be like that. Goodbye, Alex. Lose my number."

Suddenly she was there again. For the wrong reasons, "Did you bring any food?"

"Nope, and I never will again. I'm gone, Alex. You're a fucking slob! You destroy the house and expect me to take care of it, expect me to take care of you. Well I'm fucking done!" Karen screamed. She stormed out of the house.

Alex listened. Karen burned rubber out of the neighborhood. He didn't know where she was going. He didn't care. He was in the middle of a campaign. It wasn't going well either. He was too hungry to think, too hungry to keep going. He hadn't eaten since breakfast yesterday.

Karen also distracted him. The house suddenly felt empty. Alex realized he was alone...until his teammates got back to chatting. He felt the connection then. He had something to turn to. He had friends, had socialization. He had a life, and he never wanted to give it up.


End file.
